


your words i need to say

by SaadieStuff



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Fluff, Forrest is a good guy, Future Fic, M/M, Post Season 2, not that far in the future!, the 2x13 song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaadieStuff/pseuds/SaadieStuff
Summary: In the not so distant future, post episode 2x13, Malex revisits the song.Note: Updated to add a very short prequel as chapter 1, with original fic now as chapter 2.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, mention of past Alex/Forrest
Comments: 44
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this fic to really make sense you need to know the lyrics of Would You Come Home, but really who hasn't been listening to that song on repeat for the last 24 hours???

“Alien guy,” Forrest says in greeting to Michael when he approaches the pod squad’s table at Planet 7.

“Nazi guy,” Isobel says, flashing an aggressive, toothy, smile. 

Michael gives her a disapproving glare and mutters, “Alex told us not to call him that.”

“Or that,” Max interjects when he senses what Isobel is about to say next.

Forrest laughs. “I had no idea you all talked about me so much.”

“Alex is a good friend,” Max says, sincerely.

“Right,” Forrest says, shifting awkwardly to look at Michael. “Uh, anyways, can we talk for a second, microfiche guy to microfiche guy?”

“Yeah, sure,” Michael says, before downing the rest of his drink.

“We’ll get refills,” Isobel says, somewhat begrudgingly, before sliding out of the booth, Max following her.

Forrest takes Isobel’s seat across from Michael. 

“Did you know Alex and I broke up last week?”

“N-no. I’m, uh, sorry,” Michael sputters out.

“You, of all people, shouldn’t be sorry,” Forest says wistfully

Michael opens his mouth to talk but no words come out.

Forrest sighs. “Look, don’t hurt him, okay? Because you have the ability to do just the opposite.”

“I don’t… I--”

“He’s begun to heal in all the places your hands have been,” Forrest says gently. 

“Wha--” Michael starts to ask, but Forrest is already getting up, giving Michael an encouraging clap on the arm as he goes.

“ _The song,_ Michael,” Forrest grins, almost winking, “Ask to hear the rest of it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Thanks for staying to clean up. Everyone else had to leave so quickly… Stranger still how Isobel and Greg almost seemed to be ushering them out,” Alex comments with a hint of suspicion. 

Michael clears his throat nervously. “Ha, yeah… I think-- I think they caught me eyeing your keyboard,” Michael says, nodding towards the instrument propped out of the way by the fireplace. 

Alex frowns, confused. “What, you want to start a band?” he jokes -- though the idea tickles him -- thinking of how Michael had finally accepted Greg’s old guitar a few months ago. 

Michael chuckles, “Uh, maybe, actually, but that’s not-- ah,” Michael pauses, biting his lip, gaze dropping briefly to his feet. “I’d like to hear the rest of that song you wrote about us ‘n you.”

“Oh,” Alex barely breathes out. 

“I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. I’m just-- um-- I’m _ready_ to hear it. So…”

Alex stands frozen for a moment, then smiles shyly. “Okay. Let me just uh--” he trails off as he moves across the room and then carefully folds out the keyboard.

When Alex turns around, Michael is already next to him, holding the old piano bench from under the window.

“Thanks,” Alex says, as he takes a seat. 

“Do you mind if I…?” Michael asks as he starts to lower himself down on the far end of the bench -- which in truth is not all that far, but gives Alex plenty of elbow room. 

“Sure,” Alex says, threading his fingers together and giving them a stretch, “Okay.” He takes a deep breath, and begins to sing. 

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

“Wow,” Michael says when the song ends, tone hushed. There are tears on his face. 

“Thanks,” Alex says.

Alex’s hands leave the keyboard and land absently in his lap, until Michael, who has now scooched over to the middle of the bench next to Alex, plucks one and takes it gently into his own hands. 

“Michael--” Alex falters, his own tears held at bay while he’d sung now falling freely. “Michael, I need you to say words. I need that.”

Michael gulps, “I know. _We_ need that. We-- Phew.” He inhales sharply. “Alex, this is me meeting you in the middle. This is me… coming home.”

Alex’s free hand makes its way to Michael’s curls, then guides Michael into a chaste but tangled kiss. 

When their lips have parted, their foreheads resting flush, Michael murmurs, “This is me telling you that you don’t have to fight for me anymore.” 

But Alex shakes his head. “I will never stop fighting for you, Michael Guerin.”

Michael nods, understanding. “For _us_. And you’re not fighting alone, not anymore.”

“Okay, okay. That sounds good,” Alex says, feeling suddenly lighter.

Michael leans in for another kiss; their noses mush together as Alex meets him halfway. 

They giggle, and they kiss. 

And Michael stays, with a promise of breakfast in the morning. 

~~~~~

“Mhmm, sugar,” Michael hums contentedly as he takes his first bite of melt-in-your-mouth French toast.

They’re both eating standing at the counter, too hungry after their late night and slept-in morning to make it to the table with their plates. 

“So, what were you saying yesterday about starting a band?” Alex asks after gobbling down a few fork-fulls has quelled his stomach. 

“Oh, you know, just like, a dad band,” Michael shrugs.

“A _dad_ band, huh?” Alex raises an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t have to mean--”

“I know, but you always wanted kids. Since we were seventeen.”

Michael nods slowly. “But you were never sure, back then.”

Alex sighs heavily. “My concept of a home… of a father… To want that, to want to be that? It was hard to wrap my head around. But now, when I let myself imagine-- well, I think I do want kids someday.” He sniffs, and wipes a watery eye. “Sorry--”

“Hey,” Michael says gently, inviting Alex into his arms. “It’s the shrapnel. I get it.”

Alex huffs a weak laugh, “You really are going to use every lyric aren’t you?”

“No,” Michael assures him, his expression soft. “But here come the healing hands,” he teases as his hands move to cup Alex’s jaw.

Alex grins, and they draw closer.

“And here comes the tongue,” Michael adds. “‘Cause you’ve got a bit of syrup--” he explains before kitten-licking the tip of Alex’s nose.

Alex scoffs, “I do not!” 

“You _did_ ,” Michael smirks.

Alex is beaming, a goofy smile wide across his face. “Well, there were no tongues in the song so--”

 _Hmph,_ Michael grunts playfully. “You’re right. Guess we’re going to have to write a new song then!”

“Dad band’s first hit single?” Alex suggests gleefully. 

Michael laughs, and Alex joins him, in harmony.


End file.
